


It Was Love After All

by rinfics



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: DM/HG, HP/RW, Harry Potter - Freeform, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-04
Updated: 2009-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinfics/pseuds/rinfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She banged her hands on the table, surprising him. "How long do we have to stay this way, Malfoy?" she asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was Love After All

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the dmhgficexchange "Celebrate the Season with Draco and Hermione" (2005-2006), under the name 'Lady Asrial'.

Draco Malfoy was sitting on an oversized plush chair, watching his opponent from across their battlefield.

He could feel his opponent's nervousness, his inability to decide which way to go. His opponent's eyes were darting back and forth on their battlefield, desperately seeking any means to avoid the inevitable end.

Draco smirked. There was no escaping him in battle. He was, after all, a seasoned and unparalleled general. When he went for someone, that someone would surely lose.

"Well," He said, leaning back on the chair. "I'd advise you to give it up. There's nothing you can do."

"I don't give up, and I never will, Malfoy." His opponent replied.

"Such strong values…pity they won't be able to help you now." Draco crossed his arms, ready to deliver the final blow. "Queen to E – eight."

"NOOOOO!!!" His opponent yelled, watching helplessly as Draco's Queen jabbed his King with its' scepter, sucker punched it, and then finishing it off with what would be known nowadays as a bitch-slap.

Draco stood up and did a little victory dance. "Haha! That's what—five to zero, right Potter?"

"You don't have to rub it in, Malfoy." Harry Potter said, picking up the remains of his King.

"Let me see, we agreed that whoever lost would have to do their opponent's chores—along with their own—for a week." He said gleefully, sitting down. "So, you're going to be doing the dishes, along with cleaning up the flat, for the whole of next week."

Harry grumbled, putting away the board.

"What was that?" He aksed. "Did Harry Potter just swear? Oh, a holiday for the press!"

"Leave him alone, Malfoy." Said Ronald Weasley, coming out of his room. "You know Harry can't play chess to save his life."

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, hurt by Ron's words. "You're my best mate! You're supposed to boost my morale!"

"Admit it Harry," Ron said, ruffling his friend's hair. "Out of the four of us, you suck at chess the worst. Next to Hermione, that is."

Hermione Granger's head popped out from the kitchen. "I heard that, Ronald. No dinner for you."

"Aww, c'mon Hermione! I didn't mean it! You know I didn't!" Ron cajoled, heading off to the kitchen to plead his case.

Draco shook his head, marveling at himself for lasting so long in their company. He couldn't pinpoint the exact time they became friends. All he remembered was that after the war, he found himself waking inside St. Mungo's beside Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. After the initial shock wore off (and also after several fights broke out between them), they reached a sort of truce. Then, he found himself spending more and more time with them, going to drinking houses, spending late nights inside the Shrieking Shack, their refuge from the world. Eventually, they wound up buying a flat and living together. It had been one year after the war.

And then Hermione came along.

She had been suspicious of him at the beginning, but somehow, she had learned to trust him enough to become his friend. She shared a flat with Weasley's sister, and occasionally dropped by, to help them with chores or to cook for them. It became a comfortable routine for all of them.

It has been four years after the war.

They've been that way ever since.

***

Draco grunted, maneuvering the tree so that it fit through the door. He and Weasley were bringing it in, with him at the trunk and Weasley at the other end.

"Weasley! You aren't carrying your end of the tree! It's dragging on the floor!" He said, craning his neck to see where he had gone.

"I'm just going to go off for a jingle, Malfoy! Don't get your knickers in a twist." Ron hollered from outside the door.

"Dang him, leaving me here to carry this tree." He muttered, waiting for him to come back.

During the first Christmas after the war, the atmosphere was bleak and sad. Too many ghosts of the past haunted them, driving out the joy that was meant for the season. One day, Harry had come in their flat, bringing with him a little tree. He set it beside the fireplace, then went out the door and came in again with a box of decorations and lights.

"We're too sad. It's Christmas." He said, opening the box. "We should be happier. Many people have given up their lives for us to live. We should be grateful."

Draco had been struck by the truth of Harry's words. They had been wasting their time, drinking and feeling sorry for themselves. Harry had then offered one of the decorations to Draco. He took it, and hung it on the tree. Weasley strung the lights. Harry hung the star. Then the three of them stood by the tree, watching its lights twinkle in the dark living room. It has been their tradition to decorate the tree ever since.

"Weasley! Your man-bits are going to freeze out there!" He yelled.

"Sheesh! Scream at a guy, would you, for wanting to answer the call of nature?" Ron said, lifting the end of the tree. "Let's go and get this in and help Harry outside with the boxes."

They set the tree beside the fireplace, and then went outside to help Harry carry in the boxes. Once inside, Harry opened the boxes; they began decorating the tree.

Somewhere in the middle, Ron and Harry disappeared, leaving Draco alone to continue their task.

"Damned buggers. Leaving me all alone to finish this up." He muttered, picking up a round, pink, glittering ornament. He looked at it and smiled, remembering how that particular ornament came to be.

 

The second Christmas after the war, Hermione came in to help with decorating the tree.

At that point in time, they had reached what some would call a 'tentative' friendship. He didn't try to annoy her, and she him. They were in the dining room, sitting down on the breakfast table, paint and supplies at the ready. They had exchanged a few pleasantries earlier that day, but other than that they didn't speak a word to each other. The silence between them was bugging him. He was used to the noise three men could make, and he didn't know how much longer he could stand keeping his mouth shut.

Apparently, the silence was also bugging her.

She banged her hands on the table, surprising him. "How long do we have to stay this way, Malfoy?" she asked.

"Stay what way?" he replied.

"Like…like this!" she said, putting her hands up in despair. "We're supposed to be friends, but all we do is sit quietly, ignoring each other! It's not like we're deaf, or mute, or blind! But still, we keep on pretending that we're getting along perfectly fine!"

He cocked his head to the side. "Aren't we getting along perfectly fine?"

"No!" she said, with sparks in her eyes. "This…this is a mockery of that! How can we get along fine when I don't even talk to you…like…oh, I don't know!"

He then grinned, leaning in closer to her. "Well, fine then. Hi, Granger. I'm Malfoy. I'm a survivor of the war, currently living in a flat with two people whom I once considered my enemies, but now happen to be good friends with. I like the colors green and silver, I am a Slytherin, I like women who interest me, and my statistics are thirty-six, twenty-four, and thirty-six."

Hermione stared at him. "Surely you don't mean the last bit? Because if you did, I would have to say, you've got better curves than I do."

They laughed together for the first time, their mirth filling the entire room.

 

Draco hung the pink ornament on the tree, giving it a pat as he did so. He pulled out a blue-colored spiral, then a green snowman. He hung them both then stood up, admiring his handiwork. The tree was finished. All that was left to do was for Harry to hang the star, and for Ron to plug the lights. Draco smiled, clearing up the boxes. Christmas was coming.

***

Snow was falling gently on the grounds outside when Hermione Granger entered the apartment she shared with Ginny Weasley. She dropped her packages on the floor and opened the lights in the hallway. She took off her gloves, placed them in the pockets of her coat, took off her coat and hung it on the coat hanger.

"Ginny?" She called out, removing her boots and placing them on the shoe rack. "Are you home?"

"In the kitchen, Hermione!" Ginny called out. "Come here!"

Hermione picked up her packages and headed toward the kitchen. Once she got there, she placed them on the kitchen table and sat down across Ginny.

"Hey, Hermione. Done with your holiday shopping?" Ginny asked, looking up from decorating her gingerbread house.

"Yeah, almost done," she replied, grabbing the icing bowl and dipping her finger in it.

Ginny winced at her friend's action. "Almost? Who's left in your list? And don't dip your finger in the icing bowl, it isn't polite."

"Sorry, mum, I won't do it again." Hermione giggled. "You sound exactly like your mum."

Ginny stuck out her tongue at Hermione. "I don't. Okay, maybe I do. Only a teensy-weensy bit, though. You still haven't answered my question."

"Everyone on my list has a present…except…Malfoy." She licked the icing off her finger.

Ginny raised her eyebrow. "Malfoy, huh?"

Hermione nodded. "I can't think of anything to give to him…" After all, what do you give to a man who once had everything?

"How about…socks?" Ginny asked.

"No, he has a lot of socks." She replied.

Ginny looked at her friend suspiciously. "And how do you know?"

She grinned guiltily. "When I was helping them clean up their flat, I came across his room, and his door was open."

Ginny looked at her, wide-eyed. "You didn't…"

She nodded.

"I can't believe it! You peeked inside his room? You, Hermione I-follow-all-the-rules Granger?"

"Well," Hermione said slowly, "You can't blame me for looking…"

Ginny laughed. "I can't say I blame you…Malfoy was an enigma for the whole time we were at Hogwarts…come to think of it, he still is an enigma now…and besides, he's still got that…"

"That?"

"Yes, that…that kind of appeal that makes you want to drag him into the nearest broom closet and shag him senseless!" Ginny smiled mischievously at Hermione's shocked look. "What? Don't tell me you've never entertained a fantasy of shoving him in a broom closet or pinning him to a wall and having your way with him!"

Hermione fidgeted in her seat. "Well…yes, there was that one time during the Quidditch World Cup…when he was dressed in that suit…"

"See!" Ginny looked triumphant. "Even you aren't immune to Malfoy's sex appeal!"

"Ginny!" Hermione said in prissiest tone. "Young ladies aren't supposed to say things like that!"

"Oh fancy-schmancy, Hermione! Those rules don't apply when it comes to Malfoy, and you know it!"

Hermione smiled. Oh, didn't she know it.

 

It had been a windy, blustery December, and Hermione was half-buried in snow as she waded towards the door of Harry, Ron, and Draco's flat. The wind whipped the snow around her, blowing it into the hood of her coat and onto her face. She was cold, tired, and weary.

She reached the door and fumbled around in her pocket for her keys. When she found them she opened the door and came in, shaking off the snow that was stuck to her.

"Harry? Ron?" She said, taking off her coat and hanging it on the coat rack. "Is anyone home?"

She strode towards the living room, taking in the piles of clothes and the stinky odor inside the room. She gingerly picked her way through the mess and reached the kitchen. Merlin, what would it take for these boys to clean up after themselves?

"Malfoy? Are you in here?" She called out. Upon hearing no reply, she crossed the kitchen to the hallway.

She knocked on Harry's door. "Harry?" She did the same for Ron's and Draco's door, still hearing no reply. It was then she noticed that the bathroom door was open. Well, she did need to go use the loo. She opened the door, and was met with a sight that she would never forget.

Draco Malfoy, standing in the shower, butt naked.

Her heart gave a quick little jump, her eyes roaming over his body of their own volition, savoring the rare chance to get to see someone who was so closed and reserved so open and vulnerable.

Steam clouds billowed inside the small cubicle, making the scene seem quite ethereal. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed, shower water running down his face like tears. His hands were lathering soap on his chest, his hands tracing circular patters on his skin.

Her eyes followed the line of his back, from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist, ending in a nice pair of round firm buttocks. He was pale all over—pale like marble. If he touched her, with that pale marble-colored skin of his, would he be cold and hard? Or would he be warm and soft?

"You know it's not polite to stare, Granger." He said, turning around to look her squarely in the eye.

"I—I wasn't staring." She stammered out. To her horror, she felt her cheeks heat up.

He smirked. "Well, if that's what you say." He turned around again and rinsed off the soap on his body. "Feel free to finish watching the show. Heaven knows you haven't seen much like this."

Her earlier embarrassment turned into anger. "You are such a prick, Malfoy." She slammed the door with all her might and stormed off to the kitchen. A few moments later, he emerged, wearing pajamas and a towel over his still wet hair.

"Since when was telling the truth a quality of a prick?" He said, getting two mugs from the counter and filling them with hot chocolate. "You want biscuits?"

"Yes, thanks." She replied. "Since you started doing it."

"Here." He set down the mugs in the middle of the table before sitting down across her. "Doing what?"

"Telling the truth." She took one and drank deeply. "Mmm. Did you make this?"

"Yes, secret Malfoy recipe." He stirred the contents of the mug. "I've never told you a lie."

"Secret Malfoy recipe, huh?" She took one biscuit, broke it in half, and dipped it in her mug. "I don't believe you."

"Yes, even Malfoys have secret recipes which stay in the family." He took a sip. "Why don't you believe me?"

"It's just hard to imagine you in the kitchen, wearing an apron, poring over old family recipes." She bit her biscuit. "Because I find it hard to believe that you've never lied to me. Not even once?"

"I don't wear aprons. And we don't have them in books. All family recipes are passed down orally." He took a biscuit and dipped it whole. "No, I have never lied to you. Not about anything."

"Really? Seems like a tedious waste of time to me. Why not just write it down?" She dipped the other half of her biscuit. "What about that time when you told me that you weren't going out with Parkinson?"

"Because, if we write them down, someone will steal them." He bit into his biscuit. "I wasn't going out with Pansy. We were just friends."

"No they wouldn't! And you could share it to others too!" Her biscuit had been steeped in too long; it broke and sank into her mug. "Oh Merlin! It fell!" She took a spoon and scooped it out. "Friends?"

"What's the point of keeping it secret then?" He took the pot and refilled his mug. "We had an agreement. I would pretend to be her boyfriend, and she, my girlfriend. It kept the admirers at bay."

"You have a point. But you could've sold them and made so much profit from it." She drank the rest and also refilled her mug. "Whose admirers? Yours? I don't think she had any."

"Hmm…I like the way your mind thinks…" He blew away the steam that was rising from his mug. "You've got a mean streak in you, Granger. Don't say mean things about her, she was a nice girl."

She snorted. "Nice? She kept on harassing me throughout our seventh year because she thought there was something between us."

"She did? I told her to stop doing that." He took a sip.

"She didn't stop. Why did she go after me, anyway?" She dipped another biscuit in.

"Well, she got me drunk enough one day, while we were playing Truth or Hex."

She looked at him over her mug. "And?"

"And, well, she asked me if there was a particular girl whom I liked." His hands traced the pattern on the tablecloth.

The atmosphere between them suddenly shifted from a light, almost playful bantering to something serious. She could hear her heartbeat. She felt like he could hear it too.

"Well?"

"Well, I told her I liked you." He replied, looking at her straight in the eye.

For a moment, she felt like she couldn't speak. A huge swell of emotion burst forth from her chest, cutting off her circulation. She felt light-headed and woozy. It couldn't be true. He must be joking. She should calm down. He was just toying with her.

"You're joking, right? I mean, what would you have seen in me?"

"You're interesting. You're beautiful. You're smart. You make me laugh. You make me angry. You make me feel like I'm riding one hell of a roller coaster ride." His eyes stayed on hers. "I told you I've never lied to you. Why should I start now?"

She looked down. She couldn't believe it. He was interested in her? I like girls who interest me. They stayed in that tense, silent state the whole afternoon, not speaking to each other until Harry and Ron arrived.

 

"Hermione? Hello? Anyone home in that head of yours?" Ginny said, snapping her fingers in front of her friend's face.

Hermione gave a start as she was yanked out of her reverie. "Wha--?"

"Are you alright? You just spaced out all of a sudden."

"No, I'm fine. I was just thinking of something to give to Malfoy." She replied with a forced smile. Remembering that brought back that mixed swirl of emotions she felt on that day.

"Pish-posh. Don't worry about it. There's still a week 'till Christmas. You'll find something then." Ginny placed the final gumdrop on her house.

"Yeah. I will." Hermione retreated to her room.

It was nearly a year after that incident. They had never discussed it again between them. But sometimes, sometimes, she could feel a glimpse of what Draco claimed he felt for her. It was in the way he looked at her, all soft and tender. It was when they bumped into each other, and that spark of attraction jumped between them.

She couldn't deny that she felt something for him. But she didn't know whether it was just lust or really love. She was too afraid to try to jump in with her eyes closed. She wanted to know what she would need to give, what she would receive, what risks she had to take. She wanted to be sure that if she did jump in and it didn't work out, she would be able to leave unscathed.

Christmas was only a week away.

***  
It was hours before Christmas.

Draco sat in front of the fireplace, deep in thought.

What do you get for the person you've loved for most of your life?

It had to be something special. Something that would let her know how much he cared for her. Something that was unique and one of a kind.

Hermione had been stuck on his mind ever since he first entered Hogwarts. At first, he couldn't understand what he felt. He mistook it for annoyance and began calling her names, picking on her and her friends whenever he had the chance. As he matured, he began to understand what he felt. He then began to ask himself why.

There was no time to contemplate, though. The war broke out, and all of them were separated. He fought on a daily basis, watching as the people he loved died, and killing people who wanted to erase him from the face of the world.

There were times, while hiding in a cold cellar, or while taking a rest in between battles, that he felt like giving up. The times when he questioned why he had ever switched sides and became involved in the bloody, blasted war. The times when he felt that all was for naught, and he contemplated on ending it all.

Then the image of her face would swim to his mind, and he would feel a sudden sense of peace and calm. She was his oasis in the scorching desert of death, his refuge in the bloody storm. The memory of her smile gave him hope to fight for his life. He wanted to live through the war to see her smile again. And so he fought.

When he met her again, the spark was gone from her eyes. Harry told him that Death Eaters had killed her parents in front of her. His heart ached. He wanted to see her smile. That second Christmas was the first time he succeeded in making her laugh. He made sure to make her laugh more often.

By the time the third Christmas rolled in, his feelings for her grew more—almost too much to hide. She had sneaked up on him while he was taking a bath. They had drunk hot chocolate and ate biscuits. She had asked. He had answered. And he saw in her eyes that she wasn't ready to accept it yet—she wasn't ready to open her heart.

So he waited. He didn't bring it up again between them. He picked it up from where they were before he confessed. They were friends again. But he still loved her, and he knew she felt something for him too. How else could he explain those gentle looks she was unaware—he was pretty sure she was unaware—that she was sending him? How could he explain that spark of attraction that flew between them whenever they got too close to each other?

But now he could wait no longer. His heart felt heavy, as if it had been chained. He needed to set it free.

"Oy, Malfoy!" Ron called out from his room.

Draco cleared his head from his previous thoughts. "What do you want, Weasley?"

"Harry and I have something for you!" Ron replied.

"Merlin, Ron. Do we really have to do this?" said Harry uncomfortably.

"It's our Christmas present for you!" Ron said, not listening to Harry.

"This is embarrassing." Harry commented.

"It's hours early, but, what the heck! We figured out that you need it, since you seem so glum!" continued Ron.

"Couldn't we have just bought him a sweater or something?" said Harry. "I really don't want to do this."

"Harry, get into the spirit of things! A sweater won't cheer the poor bloke up!"

"But Ron—!"

"Do this for friendship, Harry!"

"I'm starting to suspect that you just wanted to see me like this."

"Stuff it, Harry!" Ron's head peeked out from the doorway. "Ready or not, here we come, Malfoy!"

Ron came out first, followed by a reluctant Harry. Draco thought the world must've turned upside down without him noticing it.

Ron was wearing a Santa hat with matching boots. Harry was wearing the same thing. Both were wearing nothing but the aforementioned and underwear made out of tinsel. And both were currently singing something that sounded like a horrible rendition of "Santa, Baby"

"Santa, baby! Hurry down my chimney tonight!" Ron warbled, doing a shimmy.

Harry tried to wiggle his hips, but found out that doing so would cause the poorly constructed underwear to fall apart. He was now clutching the tinsel for dear life.

Draco was beside himself with laughter.

"Ron, look—Malfoy's laughing. Can we stop this now?" Harry pleaded.

But Ron wasn't listening. He continued to gyrate his hips in beat with his song, clearly enjoying being outside in only tinsel underwear.

It was then that Hermone apparated into their apartment.

"Holy Merlin! What in the Unforgivables are you doing, Ronald?!" she said, shock written all over her face.

Ron stopped dancing at the sound of her voice, which caused his tinsel underwear to break apart and fall down.

For a sew seconds, everyone was silent.

Then hell broke loose.

Hermione was covering her eyes, screaming. "Oh Mother of Merlin! I've just been mooned by my best friend!"

Harry was trying hard not to stare at Ron's man-bits. He was failing miserably.

Draco was clutching his stomach, laughing until tears trickled down from his eyes.

And Ron? He turned red all over before rushing into his room, Harry following him.

***

This year's Christmas passed by uneventfully.

They gathered together in their flat and ate dinner. Apart from some ribbing that was aimed at Rom during dinner, nothing much happened. Afterwards, they gathered around the tree to open their presents.

Harry received a blanket (It was full of teddy bears), a book on Aurors, a watch and some gingerbread men.

Ron received underwear (Hermione claimed she would be permanently traumatized from the sight of him dancing in tinsel), gingerbread women, a new Cannons poster--autographed, and a magenta sweater.

Ginny received the complete collection of works by Belinda Featherquill, the most popular romance author in the Wizarding world. (The four of them chipped in to buy it.)

Hermione received a make-up kit, a new set of quills, and a gingerbread house (the one Ginny had been slaving over).

Draco received a new cloak, a model of the planets ("Saw you looking at that the other day," said Harry, "I thought you might've wanted it."), and gingerbread men.

After that, Harry and Ron got drunk and wandered off to their rooms, with Ginny's assistance. Hermione and Draco were left to clean up the mess.

"Hermione," he said, standing near the window. "Come over here for a minute."

Hermione dropped the plastic trash bag she was carrying and stood by him. "Draco--"

"Wait. I want you to listen to me first." He said, pressing a finger to her lips.

She stared at him, her expression unreadable.

He took a deep breath. "Hermione, I don't know if I ever told you this, but I've had this massive crush on you ever since we started school."

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"I know, it sounds unbelievable, seeing as how I was so horrible to you back then." He continued. "But I didn't know back then that what I was feeling for you was, well, love. I though you were an annoying know-it-all who always had to be right. You were a pushy, stuck-up little teacher's pet. "

She raised one eyebrow. "Well, this is some way to try to win a girl over."

"Would you let me finish first?" he said. "See, this is what I dislike about you. You always doubt me; you never let me finish my sentences without jumping to one conclusion or another. You infuriate me. You irritate me. You make me wish that I never knew you.

"But then I remember the way you smile, or the way you laugh. They way your eyes light up when you're happy. The way you care for all the people you love. The way you are when you're poring over an ancient text or learning something new. The way you're loyal, kind and loving. And then I feel myself falling for you all over again." He paused, watching her eyes mist with tears.

"I've loved you, I still love you, and I feel, deep inside me, that I always will." He took her hands in his and pressed it to his heart. "My love is all I can give to you."

"Oh, Draco." She said, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat. "I—I'm not sure if I do love you. I certainly do feel something, but I'm not sure if it's love, or just infatuation."

Draco dropped her hands, a sinking feeling in his gut.

"But," she continued, "I'm willing to take the chance to find out if this is truly is love. I'm willing to take your heart, and offer you mine in return, even if it means getting hurt in the process."

She took his face in her hands, and stared deep into his eyes. "I'm willing to take that chance—only if you'll be with me every step of the way."

Draco leaned forward and narrowed the distance between them. "I promise."

They kissed as the snow fell gently outside the window.

Epilogue:

Draco stood by the window watching the snow falling outside the window. He was fingering the snowflake pinned on his green sweater. Hermione had given it to him a long time ago, when he first confessed his feelings for her.

Inside the living room, gift opening was under way. Harry and Ron were exchanging gifts with Ginny's twins, Genevieve and Gerald. They (the men, not the twins) had come out of their closet a few years before and admitted their undying love for each other. They got married.

Ginny found her soulmate in Carl Appleshire, a Wizard who had studied in Beauxbatons. They have been married for three years, have a pair of twins, and currently have one on the way.

What about him and Hermione?

Hermione came to the window and slipped her hand in his. On her left hand was a ring, inlaid with tiny diamonds in the pattern of snowflakes, which he had given to her last year. That's right. They were engaged and were to be married at Christmas next year.

"It's hard to believe that we've been together for this long isn't it?" She asked him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"It's been seven years. Do you regret any of it?" He kissed the top of her head.

"No. And to think that I doubted my feelings for you all those years ago!" She gave a small laugh.

He smiled. "It was love after all, right Hermione?"

She smiled along with him. "Yes. It was love after all."

THE END


End file.
